Happy Halloween!

...From Miss C, princess of 7th grade. More on our Halloween riotousness later, after i sift through my 100+ pictures.

This Should Not Have Surprised Me

It is an old and holy practice in the Catholic Church to call on the saints in Heaven for intercessory help. We utter the name of the saint and ask him or her to pray for us. The Salesians are under the special patronage of Mary, Help of Christians, so they end all their prayers with "Mary, Help of Christians, pray for us". We also call on Mary, along with John Bosco, when we pray with the kids.

I have gotten into a habit of calling on Mary Help of Christians (sometimes just called "Mary Help" by the sisters. I don't think I'm on close enough terms with her yet to give her a nick name) when I am frustrated, tired, or otherwise in need of help. At least a couple times a day I pause, take a breath, mutter, "Mary, Help of Christians..." under my breath, and go on.

This past week in one of my classes, I was all kinds of a mess trying to change gears from one grade to another. I stopped mid-step in front of the classroom and called on Mary, this time more audibly than I meant to. Initially I was a little embarrassed because kids are like wild animals -- they smell fear, and they capitalize on it. "Great," I thought, "now they know I'm not perfect. They will squash me."

Before I could finish the thought, though, all the kids who had overheard me stopped what they were doing and said, "Pray for us!".

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is theophany.

Well, my word...

This is my 101th post! Being an infinitesimal speck in the blogosphere, I get excited by these little milestones. So, in an exercise of pure self-adulation, here's a round up of some of my favorite posts from the last 100, over the last six months or so.

Being Old (on the occasion of my 22nd birthday)
My Reputation, Apparently (on my students, their perception of me, and their hilarity)
A Paradox (pre-graduation introspection and idealistic pondering)
Why I Love My Friend Erin (on embarrassing friends and strangers in New York)
Heartstrings, pt 1 (on the occasion of my departure from college life)
A View, or Why I Picked This Weird Blog Title (by way of explanation)
Fledgling, or Heartstrings pt 2 (on the occasion of my departure from home)
Into the Deep (on the occasion of taking this mission business seriously)
Mildly Inappropriate Convent Humor (because it still cracks me up)

Field Trip

The 7th and 8th grade went to Austin on a field trip this past Wednesday. The kiddos were, praise be to God, not only very well behaved, but also actually seemed interested in what was going on and the stuff we were seeing. I, being a big ol' nerd, was fascinated by just about everything.

Shockingly, I took about 200 pictures, which became about 120 after I weeded out the unfortunate mistakes. Here's a slide show of about 60 of them, witty caption commentary included. I can't figure how to change the rate the pictures change, so it flies by fast. You might do well to just pause it and click through manually.

For Your Consideration

The cathedral in Savannah, Georgia.

(My picture)

The Church of Our Lady, right on Mary's Square, in Munich (thanks, dad!)

(Dad's picture)

The cathedral in Los Angeles.

(From Right Reasons)

Seriously. Be for real. Is there anyone out there who honestly thinks the L.A. cathedral looks nicer, or even as nice, as the cathedral in Savannah or this place in Germany? Does anyone think the L.A. cube looks nice at all? Seriously?

Why did we change from one mode of church building to the other, just aesthetically? Without even getting into the theological and liturgical issues, which are plentiful, why stop making beautiful things and start making... well, not as beautiful things?

Just a thought.

Texans are Weenies

...when it comes to "cold" weather. At least, my students are.

It was gray, rainy, and windy in San Antonio today. The high was in the fifties. All around, I will grant that it was rather brisk, but utterly nothing compared to January in the Rockies (or even the 32 degree they're forecasted to hit tonight).

My precious students, however, spent all day saying how cold it was. I heard "It's freeeeezing!" more times than I can count, along with far more squeals than were necessary when a gust of wind came through.

Seriously, Texas? These are the little weenie children you produce? This casts serious doubt on the future of our relationship. And I had been falling so hard...

Beyond Happy

Stole this from Paul at Alive and Young, a blogger I actually know and have had long conversations with about Louisiana. Mama, you should read his blog, he's a Louisiana boy through and-through. Everyone else should read him because he's funny and just generally worth reading.

Anyway, this is kind of amazing and I wanted to share with my readers. It's just beautiful, and I find myself especially touched because living with the sisters is giving me a deeper sense of how awesome Mary is. It also serve to prove that A) Bobby is alive and well since the 80's, and B) what I assume is a more or less random sampling of folks can make beautiful music.

The Bright Side

I once read an entire book while trying to use this computer to do research for a paper. In the wait time between windows, programs, and websites, I read all of The House on Mango Street, which I grant is not a long work, but I still shouldn't have been able to read it while waiting on my computer.

The upside to having a bureaucraticly slow machine is that, while I was studying my GRE book, I uploaded a metric ton of pictures to my web albums for you to enjoy (and yes, a metric ton is slightly more than a not-metric ton).

Enjoy:

• The last bit of our California adventures this year, namely Sea World San Diego.
• The journey of all the Wild Cisneri across the American South.
• More pictures of my school and my kids, including some I already posted here and a lot I haven't.
• Pictures from around San Antonio, a city with which I have quickly become quite enamored. I'm thinking of beginning an official campaign to get my family to move here so that, even though I will probably move elsewhere at the end of this year, I will be able to come back and visit.

A Wrinkle in the Continuum

Alright, so my blog isn't the most timely one in the neighborhood. Seeing as neither is it the most widely read, I don't think that's a real issue. None the less, I'm proud to say that I have been required to "step in" for the first time in my comboxes. Now I've really hit the big time!

I've been here over two months now, and first quarter in coming to a spinning, skidding end. Frankly, I cannot believe this. It's incredible how fast the time is going. This happens sometimes, of course, but I don't know if it's happened to me on this grand a scale. Part of me expects to suddenly find out that I've been trapped in a hyper-speed side-road of the space-time continuum.

Anyway, I'd love to tell you about the accordion festival and my random Delaware visitor and my hilarious students, but I have work with a deadline on it. Blech.

Anyway, Dear Readers, now you know I'm alive.

A Public Thanks, of Sorts

I could not let this day pass without some word on my patroness, Saint Teresa of Avila, whose feast day is today. I lack the gifts to tell you much about her, especially when such has been done, so I will stick to what I know of her in my personal experience.

In 2003, I was sticking my toes over the Church threshold. That June, I went to a youth conference that, quite simply changed my life. Having a conversion experience makes one prime for a whole lot of maturing, spiritually and intellectually, if you want the experience to ever be more than that, and all the more if you're young and addle-brained at the start. Such was the journey I was just beginning when I went to my grandparents house a few weeks after the Weekend That Changed Everything. If I recall my time line right, my grandparents had themselves recently entered the Roman Church and had a new collection of Catholic stuff in their house, including a coffee table book of saints located... well, on their coffee table.

Santa Teresa de Avila, 1827, Francois Gerard

This was the picture on the cover, and I remember vividly the feeling that crept into my eighteen-year-old, newly-rescued-from-contented-lukewarmness chest when I saw the expression in this woman's face. I was intimidated and drawn in at the same time. I saw a woman who was on her knees as a servant but who sat upright and looked you square in the face with a soul of great strength, and I flipped the book open to find out who this was, instantly fascinated.

Turns out she was Teresa of Avila, a Carmelite nun, a writer, and reformer of her order who lived in Spain before, during, and after the Reformation. She came from a rich family and joined the Carmelites, according to most accounts I've read, mostly because she didn't trust herself not to sin in the world. She seems, I like to think, like myself in some ways, strong willed, seemingly contradictory, sometimes stubborn, even where God was concerned, but devoutly and passionately in love.

She broke fasts when gifts of partridge were brought to the convent, and once told God, after the carriage she was ridding in dumped her out in the mud, "If this is how You treat your friends, it's no wonder You have so few". She also said, "The important thing is not to think much, but to love much", and "All things pass. God alone suffices." She suffered long periods of spiritual dryness and physical anguish, and then ecstasies and visions, and had her heart pierced by an arrow (depicted by Bernini in the splendid sculpture below). She was named the first woman Doctor of the Church for her writings. She is, in a a word, incredible.

When the time came for me to pick my patron saint for confirmation, I wavered only momentarily -- I considered the Archangel Michael, but decided that I am militant enough as it is. Teresa is more even-tempered. Hers is the only medal I've worn over the last three years, sharing a chain with the crucifix Becca, my godmother, gave me. And it turns out that when Saint John Bosco founded the Salesian sisters who run the school I'm living and working in, he gave them Saints Francis de Sales and Teresa of Avila as their special patrons. This fact thrilled me when I learned it two weeks after arriving because it was reassurance of what I already knew -- that this humble and strong servant of God has me firmly "by the shoulders", as Sr. Rosann put it. If she can impart to me a drop of her faithfulness and backbone, I cannot help but live every day a little more for Christ.

The Ecstasy of St. Teresa, 1647-52, Bernini